by Price, Sarah
Amanda lowered her eyes demurely. “I never quite know what to say to that,” she said.
“We follow you on social media, too!” The girl reached for her phone. “Do you think you could . . . ?”
“Follow you?” Amanda made a sad face. “I’m afraid I don’t have my phone with me.” The truth was that she still had yet to conquer social media. She left that to Dali and Charlotte to delegate to their teams. “But a photo is just as well, then, ja?”
Once the elevator doors opened, Amanda found a proper backdrop for her to stand in the middle of the mother and daughter, her head tilted at the perfect angle and her smile just right for the camera. After the camera was handed back to the mother, Amanda bade them good-bye and continued on her way outside. Surely Charlotte would be fuming, that soft, fun side of her disappearing behind her forked-tongue-spitfire side. But Amanda already knew how to handle that.
“Goodness gracious, Amanda! You’re half an hour late!” Charlotte scolded Amanda while she ran behind her. “And you are dillydallying in there with who? Fans?”
Amanda shook her head. “Not fans. Friends. The very friends who make this photo shoot meaningful.”
Charlotte mumbled something under her breath, which Amanda ignored as she got into the waiting car.
The photo shoot was scheduled to begin in a downtown Zürich studio and then move to the Augustinerstrasse for more photographs before Amanda headed over to the high school to meet and talk with the students. The photographer from On Tour magazine would most likely take thousands of photos throughout the day, with only a handful selected for the magazine article. With any luck, Charlotte informed her, one of her studio photos would be selected to grace the cover.
“There she is!”
Amanda strolled across the classroom, careful to take slow and deliberate steps. After much practice, she had finally mastered how to enter a room in a way that made people pay attention. In this case, it wasn’t hard to do, as the students were eagerly waiting to meet with her. She stopped and greeted each student with a warm handshake and kind word before she stood at the front of the classroom and waited for their questions.
The questions were very similar to the ones from the previous day, many of them asking her about her youth growing up in the Amish community and about her life with Viper. As she became more comfortable with the interactions, she began to share more and more of herself with the students.
“What’s it like being famous?” one of the students asked.
“Am I?” she answered innocently, to which the students laughed. “I reckon it isn’t something I’ll ever get used to,” she admitted. “After all, it’s not like I can sing or paint or even write a book. But I find that I meet the most interesting people each and every day.”
“You met Harry in England, didn’t you?”
Amanda had to think back. “You mean the young man with green eyes?” Several girls sighed and Amanda knew that’s whom they meant. “I did, ja. But they are just people, no different from us,” she explained. “They, too, enjoy meeting fans and pleasing them, knowing that, at the end of the day, they have made a difference in people’s lives.” She had been leaning against the desk in the front of the room. Now, she stood up straight and found herself walking, just a little, back and forth in front of the rows of students. “That’s why these people do what they do. At least, that’s what I’ve learned. They are people who want to make a difference, but they are just like you. You are just as special as they are.”
“They have an awful lot more followers on Snapchat than I do,” one teenage boy with blond hair and blue eyes quipped, which caused the others to laugh.
“And what, exactly, does that mean?” Amanda asked in a gentle tone of voice. “I keep wondering about this and asking Alejandro . . . Viper . . . about the meaning of this. Social media? Social currency? Is our value to be measured in numbers or in how we impact change? Be the change that you dream for your future,” she said. “Don’t leave your future in the hands of others.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marilyn, the journalist for On Tour magazine, scribbling furiously on her pad of paper, taking notes on what Amanda was sharing.
“Back in my Amish community,” Amanda continued, finding a topic she was much more comfortable discussing, “we shied away from worldliness. I never understood why until I experienced the world of fame. Now I understand why the bishops and the parents wanted to keep the children away from the changing technologies that many of you use on an hourly basis. Worldliness changes you, and like an old philosopher once said, no man can step into the same river twice, for both the man and the river are constantly changing.’”
A young girl seated in the front row raised her hand and, before the teacher could call on her, said, “Heraclitus said something like that.”
Amanda made a face. “Mayhaps. I don’t know. Alejandro told me that.”
The class laughed and Marilyn smiled while the photographer continued taking photos.
“The moral of the story is that you need to find the balance in your own life. Do not look to others to make you feel complete and whole. Do not look to the world for that. For, once you step into the world, you will not return the same person and everything will change, leaving you with new situations to deal with.”
By the time she was done talking with the class, Charlotte was tapping her foot and pointing toward her wrist as if she wore a watch.
“Now seriously, Amanda,” Charlotte said, an edge to her voice. “An hour? We have another classroom to meet and still need to take photos of you at the arena.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “Please, Charlotte. Which is more important? Talking to these students and making a difference or taking hundreds of photos, from which one might be selected?”
“According to my schedule, both—but only if you stay on task!”
Amanda shook her head and walked away from Charlotte, choosing to follow the school guide into the next classroom. She noticed that Marilyn followed, continuing to write notes on her pad of paper. Amanda hoped that what she had just said to Charlotte was not something that might reflect poorly on her. However, she knew she spoke from the heart, and if she had learned anything over the past year, she knew she could speak no other way—not for Charlotte, and certainly not for the media.
With a smile, she greeted the next class, walking through the line of standing students, meeting each one with a handshake before she stood at the front of the class and began to answer their questions just as she had done in the previous class. Although the questions were the same, her answers were different. After all, as she had just told the other students, even she could not step into the same river twice.
“You invited Enrique to join us?”
She could hardly believe she’d heard Alejandro correctly. Had he truly said those words to her. Enrique Lopez? Of all people?
“Celinda isn’t here and he wanted some company,” Alejandro explained as he stared in the mirror, fixing his hair, the back still damp from his post-concert shower. He wore a black shirt and white pants, a nice change from his typical all-black outfits that he insisted on wearing in public.
Amanda leaned against the wall as she watched him, her arms crossed over her chest. “Ja, vell, I’m sure he can find plenty of company in no time. He always does.”
Alejandro glanced in the bathroom mirror at her reflection and she immediately apologized, dropping her hands to her sides and releasing the tension in her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t feel that way, Alejandro. I just find it so hard to trust a man who has the morals of a scrawny barn tomcat.”
She thought she saw him smile at her description.
“Mayhaps you should just go out with him alone, then,” she offered.
“No deal.” He spun around and grabbed her hand, pulling her into his arms and dipping her backward. With her back bent and her head almost touching the floor, she gave a cry of surprise as she clung to his neck. “What is an evening
in Zürich without my Princesa?” He nuzzled at her neck and nibbled at her ear, causing her to squirm and laugh at the ticklish feeling of his razor stubble against her skin. “Wherever one goes . . . ,” he teased.
“So goes the other,” she finished for him. After he set her upright on her feet, she sighed. “Fine. I’ll go. But please don’t make me sit near him.”
“He’s going to be at our table. He’s having dinner with us!”
“Now you are really pushing it,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “At least don’t expect me to be happy about it, especially if he finds some woman to ease his need for company.”
Alejandro turned and playfully smacked her bottom. “Go and have some of that champagne I opened. Relax while I finish getting ready.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, dodging the hand towel he tossed at her as she escaped the bathroom and wandered into the main area of the suite.
Obediently, she walked over to the bar and took the crystal flute of champagne that he had poured for her earlier. The bubbles climbed to the top and she lifted the glass to her lips, savoring the sweet taste of the drink. With the glass in her hand, she moved to the window and stood there, staring outside at the lights of the city. It was different from the other cities they had traveled to, far less pretty during the daytime, but nighttime masked its drabness in a glow of pretty lights from the buildings, houses, and streets.
She heard the door open and glanced over her shoulder, not surprised to see Enrique saunter into the room. Forcing herself to be pleasant, she greeted him with a simple, “Hello.”
“Well, hello to you, too, Princesa,” he said as he beelined to the bar for a drink. He bypassed the gentle and smooth champagne to dive right into the vodka. “Imagine my surprise when I was summoned to join the Royalty of Rap’s court tonight.”
Inwardly, she groaned. She could see exactly how this evening would play out. Already Enrique was starting with her, pushing her buttons in the way that only he knew how. Ignoring him, she turned away to look outside, preferring the beauty of the city to the ugliness that stood on the other side of the room.
“Have you heard from Celinda?” he asked, clearly oblivious to Amanda’s discomfort or, if not oblivious, indifferent.
“She’s back in Los Angeles,” Amanda said in a flat voice, not wanting to offer more information than Enrique needed.
He sighed and plopped himself down onto the sofa. “Such a shame. I was beginning to enjoy her company.”
Amanda shut her eyes and counted to ten, wondering how Celinda had seen anything in this man that could have tempted her to think intimacy was a good idea. Just the thought of Alejandro having behaved in such a manner during his wild days made Amanda feel nauseated. She could only calm her anxiety by reminding herself that, unlike Enrique, at least Alejandro seemed to always demonstrate class, even with his female conquests.
It was almost midnight by the time they arrived at the restaurant, which, thanks to Geoffrey, remained open extra late so that they could dine after the concert. For Amanda, the concerts had begun to blend together, becoming a mixture of blurred crowds cheering for her while she wandered through the floor, taking photos with many people and talking with a select few. At some concerts she might pull two or three people to join her backstage, while at other shows she might only pull one.
People had begun to carry signs, begging to be “called to court.” While Amanda didn’t understand it at first, Geoffrey and Alejandro had told her the people were asking her to select them to come backstage. She didn’t like the comparison to the royal families and feudal systems of the past, especially since it appeared that so many of the royals died violent, horrific deaths. Still, whenever she complained, Alejandro reassured her that it was a compliment.
“Wine, sí?” Alejandro gestured for the server. They’d been joined by Geoffrey, Eddie, several other men from his entourage, plus Enrique, so Amanda was hardly surprised when Alejandro ordered four bottles of wine for the table.
Her head spun as everyone talked about numbers: ticket sales, merch sales, social media numbers, trending hashtags. Thankfully, she sat in between Alejandro and Geoffrey, so she wasn’t subjected to Enrique’s boisterous contributions to the conversation. Once, while Alejandro and Geoffrey were discussing the success of Amanda’s first meeting at the high school in Zürich, she caught Enrique staring at her. His steady gaze made her feel uncomfortable, but rather than give in to her feelings, she stared back at him with a cool look until he, not she, turned away.
But as he looked away, she saw something on his face, a dark expression of anger that made her wonder if Alejandro really understood just what motivated Enrique. If his past transgressions meant anything, Amanda knew that he was not a man to be trifled with—nor was he a man who took no for an answer.
Amanda had begun to realize that she challenged him in a way few women ever had. And by challenging Enrique Lopez—a man who was used to getting his way—Amanda had not made a new friend in him. Of course, she didn’t want him as a friend. But she’d only just realized she most likely didn’t want him as an enemy either.
Unfortunately, with Enrique, it was one or the other. From the look on his face, she suspected under which category she fell.
Chapter Twenty-One
As soon as she entered the hotel suite, Amanda kicked off her high-heeled shoes and pushed them to the side so that Alejandro would not trip over them when he returned. She had thought he might be there already, but the suite was empty. For once, she wasn’t going to complain. She needed a few minutes of peace and quiet, time to gather her thoughts and relax.
Starting with the night of the group dinner in Zürich, it had seemed like the past few days blurred together. Between two back-to-back concerts before traveling to Bern, their hotel suite seemed to be constantly filled with people. Even after the concerts, Alejandro had invited his entourage over to party while he recorded lyrics to some new songs. Despite his focus on work, his friends had been noisy and Amanda had hardly slept. She’d sat and watched her husband working some of the time. His attention to detail was so precise and on point that she found it fascinating to observe him. She was also amazed by how much could be done outside of a recording studio.
Today, however, Charlotte had scheduled three interviews and one photo shoot that had run far too long. Amanda needed to sit down, just for a while, to relax even if only for an hour, before the next round of evening activities began.
The sofa beckoned, and she padded across the plush white carpet to stretch out on it. Dropping her purse onto the floor, she sank into the cushions and leaned back. She wanted to shut her eyes but feared falling asleep. If she did, she’d probably sleep for hours. The level of exhaustion that she felt was taking a toll on her, both mentally and physically. She felt ill and couldn’t eat. Her stomach bothered her, yet despite drinking bottled water as if she were in a desert, she felt bloated. The irregular, unstructured schedule and constant flying to and from different countries didn’t help.
Her cell phone made a noise; groaning, she reached into her handbag to retrieve it.
“Please don’t let it be Charlotte,” she mumbled to herself.
It wasn’t.
Princesa,
Running late. I’ll be back in an hour. Dinner tonight. Just us.
V.
She smiled and tucked the phone under her hip—an hour’s respite from noise and energy. It sounded like a little bit of heaven to her, so she let her eyes shut, too aware of their burning from such a long day.
The day had started with a breakfast in her honor at a local children’s hospital. While she hadn’t minded the breakfast, although she barely ate anything, the tour of the hospital tired her out. She definitely had worn the wrong shoes. And then, of course, when she walked along the cancer floor, where the children were waiting to meet her, her heart broke for the pain and suffering many of them were going through. She made certain to spend a moment with each of the children, a translator nearby in ca
se the Bern children couldn’t understand her broken German. For the most part, the translator was not needed, a fact that delighted all of the officials as well as the children.
Charlotte, however, had begun to tap her foot and glance at the time Amanda was spending with each child.
And that was all it took to cause happy, energetic Charlotte to change into her alter ego—irritated and angry Charlotte. For the rest of the day, Amanda heard nothing but biting remarks and complaints about the chaos caused by the extended visit to the hospital.
Amanda simply ignored her.
Another photo shoot, this time in the center of the small historic section of town, was her last appointment. She changed her clothing into a new designer dress, and two women scurried around her, one touching up her makeup while another one worked on her hair. The photos near the Zytglogge clock tower, a beautiful medieval tower built in the early 1200s, would be used for an advertisement in a tourism magazine. According to Charlotte, they had paid a handsome fee—well into the six-figure range—for the honor of having Princesa entice people to visit their city. The photographers, however, wanted the lighting to be just right as the sun began to set, so they hurried her along and gave her no breaks during the hour that they shot photograph after photograph.
In the morning they were scheduled to travel to Copenhagen before wrapping up the tour with a long weekend, first in Oslo and then Stockholm. Amanda smiled as she realized that they were just a week or so away from returning to the United States and having a degree of normalcy in their lives for a while. Shortly after they returned to the States, they would travel to Los Angeles for Alejandro to review the latest version of his newest music video and Amanda to approve some product concepts designed by Richard Gray’s team. Fortunately, there was to be a week of respite. They would then stop at Miami for a few days because Alejandro needed to meet with his Miami-based team, and Amanda would most likely spend some time with his mother, Alecia. And Alejandro had reassured Amanda that there would be time to spend a few days with her family in Lititz. Amanda was counting down the days until they could return to Pennsylvania. She couldn’t wait to see Isadora and soak up her lavender-scented hugs and kisses. And to sit down for a home-cooked meal! Pure heaven.
